How to Write Flash Fiction (5)
Fifty Years Later …
When he was at uni in Manchester, he’d often go to the British Council premises of an evening, to play table tennis and socialise. It was usually populated by a United Nations of foreign students, South American, Iranian, Italian, Nigerian etc … Strangely the only girls who came to Barlow Moor Road were au pair girls, mostly French, or German.
One snowy night, one of the most stunning French young woman, dressed
chez Dior and wearing a fur cap, walked into the Table Tennis Room, where a number of handsome, well-dressed rich swains who had left their Jags outside no doubt, were waiting their turn. Probably because he was the least threatening of the lot, she walked towards him, and asked if he had a partner to play with, and it happened that he had not. Then we can have a couple of games she said. He noticed that all the alpha-males were glowering at him, or at least wishing him dead. She was called B_. They conversed in French, which caused a few sneers around him. After their two games she asked if they could go to the Mogambo in town for a coffee. He had to decline. “I am waiting for my girl friend M_”
Fifty years later he still remembered B’s fur hat.
